


for you are mine, at last

by emryses



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: !!!!!!!!, 10x12, Canon Compliant, Episode: s10e12 Gallavich!, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Post-Episode: s10e12 Gallavich!, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22436449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emryses/pseuds/emryses
Summary: ian gallagher is adeadmarried man
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 35
Kudos: 483





	for you are mine, at last

There was a suggestion early on in the planning by Debbie or someone that they shouldn’t see each other on the day of the wedding. Or that they would sleep apart the night before. Some sort of romantic bullshit about “first looks” or whatever. Ian and Mickey had responded with a resounding, “Fuck that.”

They’d spent actual years apart, no way in hell was Ian getting ready on his wedding day without Mickey by his side.

Instead, Ian woke up to Mickey pressed along his side, face against Ian’s neck, and their legs tangled together under the sheets. Ian trailed a hand up Mickey’s back and into his hair, scratching slightly, Mickey humming gently and nuzzling closer into Ian.

And Ian smiled. The house was still quiet, it was early - the sun just barely peeking through the windows. He rolled over onto his side and pulled Mickey closer, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

He was gonna marry Mickey Milkovich today.

* * *

Mickey woke him up an hour or two later, rolling his hips down into Ian’s.

“Wanna go shower?” Mickey whispers against Ian’s ear.

Broken leg or not, Ian’s never gotten out of bed faster in his life.

* * *

Ian hadn’t necessarily wanted the big spectacle kind of wedding, he was fine with the whole courthouse idea, but Mickey had wanted everything. He wanted the fancy-ass chairs, and the flowers, and everything else, so Ian went with it. He would give Mickey everything he’s ever wanted. So he wanted gold chiavari chairs with white cushions? Yeah, he would be getting those fucking chairs.

Of course, Terry would fuck that all up. As usual.

“I love you. I _love_ you, this son of a bitch is never gonna let me be happy, he needs to _die._ ”

Ian has always hated how easily Mickey gives up when it comes to Terry. Today was apparently no different. Terry’s ruined them one too many times, but Ian can’t let him ruin this day.

He wants to pull Mickey close and whisper only good things in his ear, tell him that this wedding will work out. (Hey, remember the gold chairs? We got ‘em!) Mickey will get everything he ever wants if he sticks by Ian’s side, he promises. But Mickey’s handcuffed to the wall, and everybody is running around them in utter chaos trying to find a new venue and more and more fucking decor is being delivered. (Why did they order so many fucking flowers?)

So instead Ian just wanders over to Mickey. He stands between Mickey's legs were he's sitting on the washer and says, “Can’t believe you fucking bit me.” 

Mickey responds by pointing to his eye.

Ian smirks, and he can see Mickey hiding one as well. He reaches his hand up and gently rubs his thumb over the bruise, “Only we would get married with a black eye, a broken leg and your teeth marks in my arm, huh?”

“If we get married,” Mickey mumbles.

Ian glares, “We’re getting married today, Mickey.”

“You’re so sure, huh?”

“Fucking positive,” Ian stares at him, and then moves closer, pressing a kiss to Mickey's temple and whispering into his ear, “We get married today, kill Terry later, yeah?”

Mickey actually manages a smile, “Get me another beer?”

Ian grabs one and passes it to Mickey. Lip and Debbie come back saying they found a place.

* * *

They get dressed together. Mickey helps Ian get his jacket on, Ian lets out a shaky breath as he does up the buttons. He steps out of the room for a minute to use the bathroom mirror to tie his bowtie. When he comes back into the room, Mickey is fully dressed, standing by the other mirror, a frustrated look on his face.

“What?” Ian asks.

“Can’t get this fucking tie right.”

Ian grabs Mickey by the waist, “C’mere,” he says, turning him around, “I got it.”

* * *

Ian makes sure his voice doesn’t waver when he says his vows. Makes sure Mickey knows how serious Ian is to be committing himself to Mickey forever. 

He promises until death do us part, but he knows he’s promising so much more than that.

And he just wants Mickey to know it.

“Now?”

* * *

Monica _would_ have loved this. She probably would have gone and killed Terry herself. She would have held Ian’s face in her hands and smiled that huge smile of hers and called him, “her beautiful boy.”

She never actually met Mickey, and that’s really strange for Ian to think about. Well, she probably met Mickey when they were really little, maybe. Ian thinks she came to at least one of his softball games.

Ian thinks Monica would have loved Mickey. God, _Ian_ loves Mickey.

“I should probably go dance with my husband.”

Ian has loved this man since he was fifteen years old. He never doubted it. Ian often doubted that he deserved it, but he never doubted for even a second that he loved Mickey Milkovich more than life itself. More than anything in this entire fucking world.

He never thought he would end up _here_. Never thought that he and Mickey would make it to this, dancing, holding each other, at their wedding. Mickey - being his _husband_.

Ian wants to go back in time and find that heartbroken fifteen, sixteen, seventeen-year-old kid who never thought Mickey would be able to tell him he loved him. He wants to tell him to hold on to that feeling, that _sincerity_ that Mickey loves him. That Mickey will tell him one day. 

(He wants to go back in time and tell that eighteen-year-old kid to shut the _fuck_ up, and just let Mickey come back inside with him.)

But mostly Ian wants to go dance to a cheesy-ass song at his _wedding_ with his _husband_. He wants to hold Mickey close as they sway, and bury his face in Mickey’s neck, breathe him in, and just never fucking let go.

So that’s what he does.

* * *

They have the honeymoon suite. It’s the ugliest room Ian has ever seen in his entire life, but the size of the bed is magical. There’s champagne and other fancy food waiting for them, and it's pretty gross, but they drink some of it anyway. 

They strip down to their boxers and dress shirts. More comfortable that way. (Plus, makes their job later a whole lot easier, if you know what he means.) They’re eating some of the food left by the hotel. Ian watches Mickey try blue cheese for the first time, and he laughs with tears in his eyes as Mickey swishes the champagne around in his mouth to get rid of the taste. ("Who the fuck wants mouldy cheese anyway?")

Ian smiles, leaning against the headboard of the bed. He looks over, and the sun is beaming through the window, shining across Mickey's whole body. Boxers, dress shirt open, chest tattoo peeking out under the tank he's wearing. He looks fucking glorious. Ian's the luckiest man in the whole world.

“I’ve loved you since I was fifteen-years-old,” Ian tells Mickey. Because he has to.

Mickey stares at Ian, eyes wet and bright, “Gallagher…” he whispers, sounds like a warning.

“Seriously, the moment your dick touched mine-”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Mickey laughs. Ian laughs back.

Mickey takes Ian’s glass, plus his own, and puts them across the room. He crawls back onto the bed and over Ian's body, swinging his legs around Ian’s waist and settling down into his lap. Mickey cradles his hand around the back of Ian's neck and he leans into it. Can’t help it, he wants to be touched by Mickey’s hands forever. And he _will_.

“Seriously, Mick,” Ian whispers, staring up at him, feeling tears form in his eyes, “Since I was _fifteen_.”

Mickey drags his thumb across Ian’s cheek, his eyes blinking fast, “I know,” he says, “Fuck, of course I know. Don't think I've felt the same way this whole fucking time?”

Ian's known. In one way or another. Still nice to hear that Mickey has been as gone on him as Ian was since the very beginning. He wraps his arms around Mickey’s waist, pulling him closer and into a deep kiss, feeling Mickey smile against his mouth. Mickey's hands tangle in Ian's hair, pulling lightly, making Ian deepen the kiss. Ian frees his arms slightly, pushing Mickey’s dress shirt off his shoulders and throwing it across the room.

Mickey pulls back, the biggest smile on his face. The kind of smile that Ian is going to make last forever.

“So,” he says, “You gonna keep talking sappy shit, or are you gonna get on me?”

Ian smirks, tightens his grip around Mickey's waist, and flips them over in one swift motion, Mickey laughing with his whole fucking chest. The sound is so fucking beautiful.

Ian can't believe he's going to make Mickey laugh like that forever.

**Author's Note:**

> i made myself cry while writing this i am a FOOL
> 
> i'm on tumblr @colinmorgans


End file.
